


Wake Me Up, I Must Be Dreaming

by CassiCat



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Disabled Character, Charles Being Concerned, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Erik has Feelings, Erik is not a Happy Bunny, Fix-It, M/M, Protective Erik, german dialogue, little!Jean Grey is powerful, post-First Class, there was sorta a beach divorce
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 22:33:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1704971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassiCat/pseuds/CassiCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It never failed to crush Charles’ heart with reality; even though they both enjoyed each other’s company, they could never do any more than this.  </p><p>And then he felt it.</p><p>An entirely new presence emerged from nothing, not the shadows, but nothing, and felt terrifyingly familiar but foreign. He could hear the mind, but couldn’t make it out, couldn’t understand.  </p><p> </p><p>Or the one where eleven-year-old Jean Grey accidentally resurrects Edie Lehnsherr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wake Me Up, I Must Be Dreaming

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to [lurkingteapot ](lurkingteapot.tumblr.com) for the help with the German translations so I didn't have to subject you all to the horrors of google translate! :) Translations available in mouse over format and in the notes at the end.
> 
> So, this happened because I was messing around on the internet and realized Jean has the power to bring people back to life (well, with the Phoenix Force, anyway, but still). And then this just kinda.... happened. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! I'll try to update regularly, but I make no promises about the nature of my muse.
> 
> Constructive criticism always welcome!

Charles leaned back quietly in his wheelchair, contemplating the chessboard and resolutely attempting _not_ to start another heated argument with his opponent.  The last time they had done this, he had slipped and the night had been cut severely short, leaving them both in a foul temper for days.  Across from him, Erik, with his helmet set neatly by the window he climbed in as per their agreement, was studying Charles silently, clearly lost in his thoughts.  And as tempting as it was to peek, Charles knew better: if Erik felt the slightest hint of Charles in his mind uninvited, he’d leave immediately, and humankind really couldn’t afford for Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr both broiling with anger and frustration for another month.

So, instead, Charles reached out, moved his queen to capture one of Erik’s rooks, and let his lips run over the words that he both loved and hated, “Penny for your thoughts, my friend?”

Erik blinked, the British accent drawing him back into the present, and, after gazing at Charles blankly for a moment before realizing what he said, answered, “No, but thank you, Charles.”

He might have screamed in frustration if he hadn’t already been biting back a moan at the way that lovely voice purred his name.  But as it was, suddenly the other man’s lean, toned figure was far more interesting than the ominous and still unexplained blood seeping from a cut on his temple.  Hair stained almost black with rain, with scattered grey just hinting at what his position stole from him, and startlingly blue eyes were more appealing to look at than the swirling dark cloud that was Erik’s mind.  If only he could bring himself to ever hope for more than this: stolen moments of tranquility between attempts to thwart each other’s plans.  If only he could hope think Erik would stay here with him forever…

Who was he kidding?  He already longed for it, and had since the moment he felt the depths of Erik’s mind; ever since he had wrapped his arms around a struggling figure in the water, all thoughts of the cold biting against his skin banished for the warmth of a similar mind.  Charles longed to kiss the man who held a brilliant, equal mind and quiet whit, but the chess board that separated them seemed to stretch on for miles even in these illicit moments.

“All right.” He answered lightly rather than leaning over and trying to reach Erik’s lips.

Erik’s eyes went back to the game, long fingers stretching out to grasp his bishop, a tiny upward curve to his lips.  It never failed to crush Charles’ heart with reality; even though they both enjoyed each other’s company, they could never do any more than this. 

And then he felt it.

There was an explosion of power within the downstairs study, a sudden change in the air itself, energy rushing out everywhere.  An entirely new presence emerged from nothing, not the shadows, but _nothing_ , and felt terrifyingly familiar but foreign. He could hear the mind, but couldn’t make it out, couldn’t understand. 

He almost didn’t realize the person was screaming aloud too until Erik got to his feet quickly.  Erik’s mind recoiled with surprise, then surged with something Charles couldn’t quite name, loud enough that Charles couldn’t help but hear it.  And then Erik was already out the door, down the hall, taking the steps two at a time and completely forsaking the last three.  Charles followed on his heels as best he could in the wheelchair, still attempting to process what had happened as turmoil and despair shrouded the two minds in the study.

Alex was already at the door, reaching for the handle, but Erik threw him back with a casual wave of his hand.  Alex landed softly, all things considered, and scrabbled to get up for a moment before registering Charles’ presence.

“Professor-”

“I know.” Charles cut him off softly, reassuring Alex with a brief touch of his mind, “He’s not hurting anyone considerably.”

By this time, Erik had thrown open the doors and stepped inside.  Charles could see him frozen in place, staring ahead, and could feel the disbelief well up and consume the metallokinetic.  Slowly, Charles pressed past him and into the room, only to go silent and still himself.  Eleven-year-old Jean Grey was close to hysterical, shaking hard and breathing fast as she stared at the other woman in the room, who was dressed in rags, dirt covering her face.  Her chocolate brown eyes were wide with confusion and fear and locked on Erik, as though utterly perplexed by him.

“M-Mama.” The whisper escaped Erik’s lips, his body trembling finely.

The woman blinked at him and tilted her head, speaking with a thick German accent, “Erik?  Schatzi?  Was ist passiert?”

Erik went utterly still, mental barriers crashing as his knees threatened to give out under him.  Somehow, he managed not to crumble to the ground and slowly managed to step a little closer, staring at the woman Charles could now identify as Edie Lehnsherr from Erik’s memories.  Memories that were being drawn up and dancing in front of Erik’s eyes.   Shaw, his mother, the gun, the coin.  The damned coin.  Anger, grief, disbelief, and fear welled up in the older man’s chest and swirled through his mind like a violent storm.  He wasn’t quite willing to hope _she_ wouldn’t disappear with his touch on her cheek.  Jean, meanwhile, was gasping in breath desperately, her mind projecting _“Sorry, sorry, sorry”_ over and over again, her own mind clouded with fear.

Charles decided that despite Erik’s past actions, he was much less likely to lose control and do any real damage than Jean.  Erik was older, more controlled, and his emotional turmoil was tinted with slight hope.  Jean’s, thought, was a time bomb, and with a mutation as potentially destructive as hers, she was the one who needed to calm down soonest. 

“Jean.” Charles maneuvered over to her and reached for her trembling hand, “Jean, it’s okay.”

Wide eyes found his as the redhead continued to shake uncontrollably, near hyperventilating as she choked out, “Oh my god, Professor, I’m so sorry, I d-don’t know what happened!  It all happened so fast…”

He cut her off by squeezing her hand firmly, not hard enough to be painful, but strong enough to make her break off and focus on him.  He repeated patiently, “It’s okay.  It was an accident, Jean, no harm done.”

The young girl stared at him for a moment before silently burying her face in the soft fabric of his cardigan.  Charles wrapped a reassuring arm around her, soothingly rubbing her back as he glanced back toward Erik and his mother.  Erik still hadn’t spoken, shock settling like fog over his mind as he stared at the woman in front of him.

Edie breathed, “Erik?  Schatzi? Bist du’s wirklich?"

“Ja.”  Erik somehow managed to get out despite an uneasy stomach and constricting throat, “Ja, ich bin es. Wirklich.”  Really, Charles was impressed that Erik was keeping himself upright.

With quivering hands and unsteady legs, Edie Lehnsherr took a half step forward and raised her hand to her son’s cheek, asking, “Wie ist das möglich? Du … du bist gewachsen.”

Tears shone in Erik’s deep blue eyes, and he immediately grabbed for her hand and held it tightly in his own, as though letting go would result in her disappearance.  This time, he was unable to muster the words to speak, instead just wordlessly clinging to his mother’s hand as though it was a lifeline.  The emotions washing through Erik were dizzying, powerful, and often contradicting, spiraling endlessly through his body without a release point.  For a moment, Charles feared he would be caught in the violent rapids of Erik’s mind, but just when he started to internally panic, the energy and emotion honed in on a single spot and then expanded, and, through Erik’s mutation, Charles could sense the correction of every imperfection in any metal in the house.

Apparently, that was enough for Erik, because he once again addressed his mother, though his shock remained hazy in his eyes, “Du warst tot. Schmidt hat dich erschossen.”

“Ich verstehe das nicht. Ich soll tot sein? Tot gewesen sein? Was ist denn passiert? Wenn ich doch tot war, wie kann ich dann jetzt am Leben sein?” Edie’s mind, unfamiliar against Charles’ surface thoughts, rushed with fear and disbelief and thoughts he couldn’t decipher.

“Ja.” All other words seemed to momentarily abandon Erik, and he shot a glance toward Jean, quiet wonder and fascination in his expression, before breathing, “Ich weiß nicht.”

“N-nein! Das kann nicht sein!”Edie exclaimed, her brown eyes wide as she gazed up at Erik.

Erik held out a hand, called the calendar by the desk to him via the metal in the hook, and handed it to his mother without a word.  She took it and gazed down at the numbers on the calendar for a long, drawn-out moment before looking up, disbelief finally manifesting into full-out protest.

“Nein, das kann nicht sein. Es ist 1944, Erik!”

Erik’s voice was the tone of calm that never failed to set Charles a bit on edge when he replied, “Nein, ist es nicht, wir sind im Jahr 1967, Mama.”

“Du bist doch erst zwölf! Es ist 1944!”She argued.

“Es ist 1967. Ich bin fünfunddreißig.” He corrected her softly, pain flashing through his eyes.

Panic started to set in around Edie, her German falling into incoherence.  Erik reached for her quickly to attempt to calm her, but she pulled away just as quickly, fear reflected in her gaze.  Charles, feeling the dangerous amount of trepidation fill the air, looked to Erik for some sort of signal.  Finding none, he decided to risk it.

_She’s panicking.  I can soothe her mind, but it will put her to sleep._

Charles didn’t miss the raw flash of _I’m still not good enough to help her, even now_ that runs through Erik’s mind, but he also picks up the older mutant’s faint nod.  Charles raised his fingers to his temple and wrapped his mind around Edie’s, radiating waves of calm until she slumped into Erik’s arms, already asleep.  For a brief instant, Erik’s eyes, sparkling with tears, met Charles’, and the unspoken thanks hung understood in the air as Erik wordlessly picked up his now peacefully dreaming mother and carried her out of the room.  Charles never had to ask where Erik was going, and instead returned his focus on Jean, aware of where he’d find Erik once he ensured his young charge was snug in bed once more.

**Author's Note:**

> Schatzi - term of endearment, similar to sweetheart  
> Was ist passiert? - What happened?  
> Bist du’s wirklich? - Is it really you?  
> Ja - Yes  
> Ich bin es. Wirklich. - It is me. Really.  
> Wie ist das möglich? Du … du bist gewachsen. - How can this be? You've... grown.  
> Du warst tot. Schmidt hat dich erschossen. - You were dead. Schmidt shot you.  
> Ich verstehe das nicht. Ich soll tot sein? Tot gewesen sein? Was ist denn passiert? Wenn ich doch tot war, wie kann ich dann jetzt am Leben sein? - I do not understand. I’m… dead? I was dead? What happened? If I was dead, how am I alive now?  
> Ich weiß nicht. - I don't know.  
> Nein - No  
> Das kann nicht sein! - That cannot be!  
> Es ist 1944. - It is 1944.  
> Nein, ist es nicht, wir sind im Jahr 1967. - No, it's not; it's 1967.  
> Du bist doch erst zwölf! - You are only twelve.  
> Es ist 1967. Ich bin fünfunddreißig. - It is 1967. I am 35.


End file.
